


Nothing Could

by windfallswest



Series: Olin/Lands [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Last of The Jedi Series - Jude Watson
Genre: Holding Hands, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: Ferus found Roan waiting for him on a bench in the front commons of his hostel—he had barely begun to look for more permanent accommodations—when hunger finally stirred him to go out in the rain. He stopped in his tracks, frozen again by an all-too-familiar indecision.No. Not indecision; fear. But still.If you can't deal with a muffin, how can you deal with this?





	Nothing Could

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to take responsibility for any of your dental bills.

Ferus found Roan waiting for him on a bench in the front commons of his hostel—he had barely begun to look for more permanent accommodations—when hunger finally stirred him to go out in the rain. He stopped in his tracks, frozen again by an all-too-familiar indecision.

No. Not indecision; fear. But still. _If you can't deal with a muffin, how can you deal with this?_

Roan stood up but didn't move to approach him. Drawn not by the Force but some impulse Ferus could neither identify nor resist, he closed the distance between them.

"Hi," Roan said, then stopped, evidently at as much of a loss as Ferus was. "Look, I'm—"

"I'm sorry," Ferus began at the same time. 

They stared at each other. Roan huffed a laugh, but it lacked his usual ebullience.

"I didn't want—well, I still do want to— I never meant to upset you," Roan tried again. "I know we've only known each other for a little while, but you're a good friend. I really like you. And—don't worry about the other stuff."

He gripped Ferus' shoulders in the Bellassan gesture. Swallowing unaccustomed nerves, Ferus squeezed his arms back. 

 

Roan had left him with a deep emotional confusion and lots of leftovers, sent by his parents. Ferus showered, mindful of the simple comforts of hot water and dry clothes. He heated one of the dishes and ate thinking of the Lands' generosity and, inevitably, Roan.  
In bed that night, Ferus lay awake. He touched his lips, remembering again Roan's breath on his skin as well as the size and warmth of Roan's hands as they clasped his arms. Force, but he had wanted for those hands to draw him into an embrace. Roan was so solid, so very kind. It had barely been a day and already Ferus missed his laugh. 

_Is this attachment?_ Although forbidden to Jedi, it was not Dark by first principles. Jedi were forbidden other attachments because they served a greater purpose, because they had a duty to always use their powers responsibly, and because it made them vulnerable to the Dark side in a unique way.

Ordinary people formed attachments all the time. Ferus had left the Jedi Order. He had resolved to no longer use the Force. But in a way, pursuing this attachment would cut him off from his former life more surely than when he'd placed his lightsaber into Master Yoda's hands.

He still missed the weight of his lightsaber at his hip.

At work, his employer Abigail Manx asked him how his date had gone; Ferus found himself blushing. He had ended up working at the florist's where he'd bought the guest bouquet. Wine was also traditional, but Jedi were abstemious. 

It was different from anything Ferus had ever done. In the Temple, they had learned to find beauty and worth in everything; to appreciate aesthetics, but not be bound by them. 

_Flower arrangements._ It was so trivial, but the steady stream of customers—some happy, some hurried, some apprehensive—whose days were brightened gave him a great deal to consider. There was something undeniably soothing about immersing himself in such simple beauty. Ferus thought of the Room of the Thousand Fountains. 

He had never stayed in one place like this, without a mission, just interacting with normal citizens in ordinary ways. Ferus wouldn't have called it peaceful, but it wasn't political crisis on a planetary scale. 

Intellectually, he had known that this was how society thrived: beings going about their individual lives, doing all kinds of work, not just government officials and law enforcement, but work like this. Arranging flowers. Selling clothes. Grooming pets. Making and breaking connexions.

Ferus felt as alien as if he'd been on Mon Calimar, an oxygen-breather in a world of water.

He commed Roan. It had only been a few days, but already he felt the separation. That meant something, probably. 

He wanted to talk to Roan. There was no reason why he shouldn't. Ferus felt a nervous tension release in his back and shoulders when Roan answered, sounding breathless but pleased. It was over an hour later when they finally disconnected.

 

Ferus took a deep breath in, held it, then slowly exhaled, trying to quiet his nerves. It was the next day, and he had arranged with Roan to meet at one of Ussa's many street markets, one that was open into the evening to cater to those who worked during the day. So much that was neatly tucked away inside on Coruscant spilled out into the open air here.

He spotted Roan first, a familiar figure among the growing crowd. Instead of hailing him immediately, Ferus took the opportunity to look at Roan, unobserved. He was tall, with broad shoulders and an athletic build, adult muscle beginning to thicken his frame in a way Ferus had yet to achieve. A remaining hint of puppy-fat helped give his face that boyish look, complementing his wide, infectious grins. 

_Handsome._ Ferus let himself think it not just in the abstract, but as something that shivered in his stomach and made the palms of his hands sweat. 

Wiping them surreptitiously on his tunic, Ferus started working his way through the milling Bellassans to Roan. He acknowledged with a smile and a wave when Roan caught sight of him, faltering momentarily under the onslaught of a knee-weakening grin. 

Roan clasped his arms in greeting, and Ferus squeezed back. The worst of his nervousness faded away in Roan's easy presence, leaving behind a buzz of excitement. 

"So, I have to ask—how's work?" Roan said as they navigated the curving avenues of the mercantile district, where vendors' stalls were crowded between open-fronted stores whose wares overflowed out onto the pavement to attract the attention of passers-by. 

Ferus thought about it. "It's an interesting experience. A different perspective from how I've seen the galaxy before."

"Yeah, but do you _like_ it? I mean, it's got to be pretty boring compared to, well."

Ferus opened his mouth to say _Jedi don't get bored_ , then closed it. 

Roan gave him a look. "Never mind; I should remember who I'm talking to. It's just a little surprising."

"It is," Ferus agreed thoughtfully.

"But you're going to stick it out for a while? That's good. Give yourself time to get a handle on what's next."

Ferus sighed.

"Or just take it day by day, beautifying Bellassa one bouquet at a time. You're _really_ not used to not having everything all figured out, are you?" Roan added, observing the conflicted expression on Ferus' face.

"...No," Ferus admitted grudgingly. "Or I wouldn't be standing around, staring at muffins."

"And look how that turned out." Roan's smile twinkled in his eyes. 

Ferus sighed, more at the chance nature of it all than the result. 

Roan elbowed him. "Hey, now." But he sounded more amused than offended. 

"I suppose _you_ do," Ferus said wistfully. 

"Well, sort of. I suppose. But it's taken me all my life to get here. Since secondary school, anyway. What university did I want to attend, and could I get in, what do I study, what do I want to do, where do I live? You just have to make the best choice you can in the moment; and if you're wrong, you can choose again."

"Sometimes."

They walked in silence amid the throng. 

"The Jedi?" Roan was usually even more careful not to mention the Order than Ferus was. "Are they that unforgiving?" 

Ferus heard the questions Roan was too polite to ask. _What happened? Were you expelled? Would you go back?_

"Sometimes the only way to fix a mistake is not to make it," Ferus said. He glanced at Roan, then away. "I left. My master, the High Council, they would have let me stay. It was my choice."

Roan bumped his arm, reassurance this time instead of playfulness. Not letting himself think too hard about what he was doing, Ferus caught his hand and held it. 

Beside him, he could feel Roan stiffen slightly in surprise, then deliberately relax. He snuck a glance at Ferus out of the corner of his eye. 

Hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder, they strolled down the street. Roan didn't seem to have a specific goal, although he did stop now and then to point out particular Ussan specialities among the wares. 

One of the merchants was selling musical instruments used at discount rates. Roan picked up a mallet and plunked idly at the carved top of a hollow wooden box, producing mellow but random tones.

"Our parents sent us all to dulcechord lessons when we were younger, but Durga's the only one who was any good at it," Roan said regretfully. He looked up, watching Ferus turning a vio-flute over in his hands. "Do you play?"

Experimentally, Ferus brought the mouthpiece to his lips and blew. It took a few tries to get the air pressure right, but the sound was surprisingly low, breathy and resonant.

Attempting to replicate the result, Ferus blew another carefully calibrated breath. The instrument emitted an awful shriek, and Ferus hurried to put it down, wincing. "No. That's not one of my many talents."

Roan smiled at him like this were some profound revelation and not just a further demonstration of Ferus' limitations. When he took Ferus' hand again, he interlaced their fingers.


End file.
